


Strategy

by Lynchy8



Series: Fun (and sad!) little drabbles [8]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Oneshot, Sickfic, bit of fun, cracky as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynchy8/pseuds/Lynchy8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras needs a bit of persuasion to admit how ill he really is</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Cat when she was feeling poorly to cheer her up.

Enjolras looked ill. Scratch that, he looked bloody awful. His skin was almost translucent and the sweat shone on his forehead, plastering his golden hair. Every so often he would pause to cough, a wretched sound as though sand clogged up his lungs, followed by a glare round the room as though daring anyone to comment.

Joly shot a quick look at Combeferre who nodded imperceptibly. He then looked back at Grantaire who was apparently staring intently at his bottle, but he tapped his index finger four times in confirmation. Joly took a deep breath.

"Now!"

Enjolras didn't have any time to process the sight of all of his friends suddenly piling towards him. The next thing he knew he was lying on his back on the floor. Courfeyrac held his ankles while Jehan sat on his thighs. Bahorel had one arm, Feuilly had the other. Most terrifyingly of all, Combeferre was holding his head still in a vice-like grip. Bossuet stood well back, comforting a distressed Marius.

("But surely we could have just asked -?"

"Just leave it to the others, mate, it's for the best")

Joly and Grantaire advanced forward.

"Open wide, Enjolras. The nice doctor wants to take your temperature," R grinned, like a cat stalking a canary. Enjolras clamped his mouth shut firmly, his fevered eyes blazing, before shaking his head in a petulant fashion. R grinned all the wider.

"It's your choice. We can do this orally... Or the other way." He made a gesture with the thermometer in the air and Enjolras's eyes widened.

_You wouldn't._

R raised a challenging and amused eyebrow. _I would._

Joly made a choking noise but held his peace after a warning look from Combeferre. Beneath him, Enjolras's shoulders slumped in defeat and he obediently opened his mouth.

Grantaire popped the thermometer under his tongue.

"There's a good little revolutionary," he teased, earning himself another glare.

"Thirty seconds and we get to find out just how sick you are." 

The digital thermometer beeped angrily and this time Joly leapt forward to extract it from Enjolras's mouth.

"You know that was totally ridiculous!" He spat as soon as his mouth was free. "I'm fine!" He asserted angrily.

Jehan snorted, hopping up to release Enjolras's legs. Everyone else moved back too, as though backing away from an enraged tiger. Enjolras slowly climbed to his feet dusting himself off with as much decorum as he could muster.

"102°?!?!" Joly shrieked. He rounded on Enjolras who took a step back in alarm.

"Home. Bed. Sleep. Now."

Enjolras opened his mouth to argue but found Combeferre's hand on his shoulder guiding him towards the door.

"You're no good to any of us half dead. Go home and sleep it off." He said reasonably but with an undertone that was not to be contradicted. When he got to the door, Grantaire was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in amusement, clutching Enjolras's coat. Enjolras couldn't help but notice the crinkle of worry in those eyes and for a moment he felt a stab of guilt.

"Traitor" he muttered without any heat.

"You can kill me when you're temperature is back under 99°F" he shrugged, helping the man into his coat.

Grantaire walked him home, despite Enjolras's assertions that he didn't need a babysitter. R scoffed and told him to suck it up.

Enjolras had to admit, sinking his exhausted body into bed was something akin to heavenly. Grantaire handed him some flu tablets and a glass of water.

"I'll pop by tomorrow morning to feed you something delicious. In the meantime don't even think of leaving the house or I won't be responsible for Combeferre's actions."

Enjolras laughed but they both knew it wasn't an empty threat. The man could be terrifying when provoked.

"Thanks, R" he muttered sleepily.

"Don't mention it."

He was asleep before Grantaire closed the door.


End file.
